Then I was running before I even realized what I was doing.
I burst through the back door and sprinted across the yard.
Cold air hit my face.
The grass was damp beneath my shoes.
The little wooden playhouse stood exactly where it always had.
Quiet.
Ordinary.
Except for one thing.
One corner of the roof looked different.
A panel had been lifted just enough to leave a narrow gap.
My heart was pounding so hard that I could barely breathe.
I climbed onto the small bench beside the playhouse.
The wood creaked beneath my weight.
I reached upward, my fingers inches from the loose panel.
Then I froze.
A car door slammed across the street.
I turned.
Melissa had gotten out of her car.
And she was running straight toward our backyard.
I looked back at the roof.
Then I reached for the loose panel.
My fingers closed around it.
